The Royal Wedding.

I’m a sucker for Royal weddings ~ mostly because I like to watch the clothes. I remember sitting glued to the little TV in my Grandparents camper during a raging thunderstorm many many moons ago the last time Charles got married. Although I had made no specific plans to watch Charles and Camilla finally tie the knot, (or, as the narrator in the movie “Love in the Afternoon” says, they “came before the magistrate, and were stentenced to a life of Holy Matrimony.”) However, a few of us were having dinner at a friends house, and coverage of the event started at 7pm (we left at midnight and it was still on). As we watched, I could think of only one word to describe what I was seeing. PLUMAGE. Never have I seen so many feathers stuck, stuffed, perched or spewing forth from, atop so many noggins. I was agog. Our after-dinner conversation was frequently interrupted with exclamations of utter disbelief at some of the creations people had chosen to leave their homes wearing. Big Bird, Sitting Bull, and the sprites from Midsummer Night’s Dream would have blended in with ease. Although, to be fair, most of my head gear is knitted out of chunky wool, and has ear flaps. But somehow, that still seems better than feathers. Maybe.

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